Mockingbirds
by orange-tide
Summary: Slight future. Senior year, the best year of their lives. But when something tears the loosely knit world of Newport apart, what will everyone have to say? All they really could say was goodbye. And no one was ready to. Please review. COMPLETED.
1. Frail Fingers

**This is just something I thought of in the middle of the night, it's a little confusing at first, because I don't really use names, but the fourth part, most likely the last will say everything. Please tell me what you think of this, I know it's short, but I figured this would be better than one big long one-shot. Please reivew!**

An alarm clock went off inside the house. It wasn't set correctly, no one quite understood how it had been set wrong. But it went off early in the morning, and set to a station that reached out to souls that gave up long ago.

January was usually never cold, but a wind blew through the town, and never seemed to leave. It set the mood nicely, since a smile couldn't form on the faces anymore.

Tears froze on a pale face, with red cheeks from the temperature. The bed was vacated, bare with no blankets atop. All the blankets had their place, in her secret bed. You could watch the sun rise and set, and wait for a new day that would only bring a recurring darkness that clouded them all.

It was a sad Summer in a real winter.

Only four days had passed, and already it seemed like a year. Every minute was a day. Every second an hour. Every hour a month.

Today was an especially sad day, because finally it would become real. Tomorrow they'd go to school, where stares were already a given. These teenagers were ripped apart, and sewn together completely wrong.

Two had been left in comas, one severely injured, and the other dead. So far one had only woken up from a coma that lasted only three days. Little by little, things had been laid on a fragile mind, until a breakdown ceased it. Shock was their answer for the reaction. It was most definitely shock.

Their senior year was ruined, it had been a year not filled with disaster. Every so often, a mini-drama would occur, but they made it through. Just a month ago, the winter dance occurred, and instead of it being awkward, it was incredible. They dreamed of a real winter.

Now, they had it and wanted to give it back.

That night had been ultimate. The last one all four were together was January 13th, Friday the thirteenth, why hadn't they noticed that? Maybe the day really was unlucky, or they were. She was seventeen and five months that night. She hated that age.

A movie had been playing that night, so they decided to take it easy and see it. They caught the late showing. Those were always the best. The theater was mostly empty then.

First, they had gone out to eat, a simple pizza. They joked and laughed, not having a care in the world. Not a drop of liquor was around, yet that had destroyed them.

No one quite understood how these couples lasted this long, but they had. It had seemed that everything came between them. Their pasts, their relatives, their hobbies. But something finally let them have peace. And they were glad.

Her eyes slowly opened, letting a fresh set of tears cascaded down her face. It was still dark, and barely any stars illuminated the vast and empty world. Nothing made sense any more. It was just as dark as it had been four nights ago.

After they had eaten, they headed to the theater. Being incredibly early, the games around them pulled each one in.

Dancing was never a strong point, but if you were told where to move, you could get it right. She had always been the best of the four. The other three never stood a chance.

At least an hour, a month, was wasted on playing games like racing, or shooting. Whenever they raced, they'd try to hit each other off the road. It wasn't very lifelike, what happened when you crashed. It was false leading. You weren't picked up and placed back on the road. It wasn't that simple.

Reluctantly, she got up and climbed through the window. She was met with a blank bed. The covers smelled of his scent, he had been over five days ago.

She never remembered going to a funeral, so it would be a new experience. Everything was a new experience. She had survived. One hadn't, and one was close to it.

Four nights ago, they'd stepped into a movie theater, waiting to laugh at the new comedy of the week. It hadn't been _that_ funny, them as a four were much funnier. So mostly they complained about how the movie hadn't been funny.

A small smile hadn't formed on her face since that night. Of course, she hadn't moved until yesterday.

She knew her father had almost lost it in three days, but she was one of the four with the least worst problems.

Turning the water on, she slipped under the surface, never wanting to come up.

They had walked out of the movie, arguing about a tiny part of the film. Mostly she was laughing, with her hand interlocked with her boyfriend's. her father disapproved of the boy, but she didn't care. She loved him.

An hour and twenty five minutes, a month and twenty five days later, she stepped out of the mostly cold bathtub. Staring into the mirror, she saw a stranger looking back at her. This person wasn't who she was. Her old self disappeared four nights ago, four years ago.

Frail fingers touched a scarred face, and a single tear graced it. Deep brown eyes saw the helplessness in the reflection.

She remembered they hopped in the car, she was in back with her best friend. Brothers sat in the front, her boyfriend driving. They continued laughing, and little droplets formed on the windshield.

She placed a comb through her knotted hair. Today was a day she'd never forget. She regretted it entirely, but she had to go. She'd be in the line of losers, for a friend was dead. They'd all be there, except for two. Brothers falling towards death.

She never believed in the death penalty before. She thought that if you committed a crime, you should have to pay for it for the rest of your life. But now, that had changed. If you took a life, you shouldn't have the opportunity to live.

Four days ago, four years back, it had been raining pretty hard. But her boyfriend knew what he was doing. He could be trusted. The rest of the road was debatable.

Frequently, the school sports teams would plan a little get-together, a social gather per se.

A rager in fact.

Alcohol was consumed, coke was snorted, and unfortunately, later cars were driven. Instead of having a sports game that night, they had a drinking game.

She chose her clothes carefully, trying to find the nicest black outfit. It had be to good enough to say goodbye in.

Slipping back silk over her body, she felt more silent tears cascade down her gentle face. They hung onto her chin for a moment, and then dropped onto her perfectly shaped shoulder blade. A pool of wet sadness began to form.

Flying isn't humanly possible, but four days ago, it was. A head on collision, that was way too fast, forced to defy the laws of gravity, if only for a few seconds.

She remembered screaming, and involuntarily her hand going out to her boyfriend's. his wasn't there at first, she held onto his arm until it came, just as they came crashing down.

A world had come crashing down that night as the tumbled over a road. She had squeezed her eyes shut and her hand stayed grasped with his. She didn't know how they landed, except when she opened her eyes, windows were broken out, a person in the front seat was already unconscious, and another next to herself screaming.

Two hands broke apart, as they faded into a darker darkness.

**So, what did you think? _Scarred Youth_ will get updated, since it's so long, it takes a while to update. So wait for that, but I think _The Rest Is Silence_ is due for an update. So...Review!**


	2. Dough Eyes

**Wow, thank you guys for your reviews. Some of you were right, the first part is Summer. This part, well, it's not Summer. Just guess. Please review! **

Late night t.v. was never really directed at anyone. It couldn't heal a broken soul. All it did was to give people the ability to veil their sadness. No one truly happy ever watched late night t.v. If you were happy, you'd be sleeping. Late night t.v. _was_ directed at someone: Depressed insomniacs.

Before everything, she never watched late night t.v. Now, it was her new best friend.

Being the only one technically alive after the accident, a lot of pressure was laid on her. Police hounded the destroyed girl at all times. Late at night was the only time she could think.

Except she didn't want to think. Memories were riddled with images no one deserved to see.

For four days, four years, she tried to coop herself in.

She had seen it all, in its depressing glory. She had watched each one of her friends fall into a deep sleep, maybe ultimately, a demise.

Her throat had yet to heal from that night, where her fears came true. At first, people just stared, letting four teens slip farther and farther away.

Maybe if someone had called an ambulance right away, she'd be able to pick up and call any one of them now and cry and say everything she hadn't.

Mostly she slept in the day, with her father keeping a close watch on her. Temporarily, he stayed with her and her mother in the mansion. Looking in, it seemed like what her father was doing was sweet, but really, it was mandatary and tragic.

Dough eyes only closed in the light, because then, it was never really dark. A light shone through eyelids, making it okay to dose off, if only for two hours, two months.

The parents kept watches on her at every minute. If she ran to the bathroom, there was nothing there. All that was there was a toilet, a shower, toilet paper, and a sink. A towel wasn't even allowed, and strangely, it had been managed that the water was shut off in each bathroom.

Who knew what would occur if these precautions weren't taken? But no one wanted to find out. She was no longer trusted, but somehow, it didn't bother her. For once in the giant mansion, she felt safe.

Any strife with her mother was gone. It had no longer mattered, for she almost died, and one had, one was close to it, and the last, inching their way back.

Just five hours, five months, until a time that would never be forgotten. She'd have to say good-bye to someone she only knew for two and a half years. That felt like forever.

Everyone in the mansion was asleep, except for her. The t.v. kept her awake. Her sister, who decided to watch her, had dosed off. She couldn't ever be trusted.

When blinding lights shone in her face that night, it had been pouring hard by then. Her hair had plastered itself all over her face. She was stuck in her seat, and all she could do was survey the damage.

Her best friend was next to her, unconscious already. She saw hands limply near each other, and never in seventeen years had seen something so...disgusting.

She had always envied her best friend. For her beauty, her openness, her intelligence, though the latter was rarely seen. Yet none of that mattered anymore. Her best friend was on the brink of death, and if nothing happened, she'd be gone.

Tears and screams escaped her own little fragile body, a sharp pain hitting her with each intake of breath.

They told her everything would be okay, but how could it be? Nothing was ever okay after something like this. This tore worlds apart, with no hope of it ever going back to the way it was.

It slowly turned over an hour, and only four hours left. Nothing about this was fair.

She got up and began to walk out of the room, but stopped. Her little sister laid on the other couch, where she had been not long ago. She had leaned on her family so much during this time. She couldn't handle it. It was an emotional overload. Only once had she had one of these before, and it ended in an alleyway.

That was why she was on constant watch. Just in case she couldn't handle it. How could she handle it? Someone severely close to her was dead.

Drifting through a silent house was dangerous. You could realize anything in the dark. It played tricks on you, showed things you wanted to see. Only they weren't real.

In blinding light, she had could it quite easy to keep her eyes awake. They took her long, slender, and battered body out of the car after her best friend, who was in worse shape. She had looked dead. They all looked dead.

As they laid her on stretcher, she remembered seeing two brothers still in the front. One was already cold. And one was slipping near.

She stepped up the stairs, and heard one creak. It never usually did, only when you walk ever so slowly, just like she was.

Thoughts drifted off to the person she loved. She was so scared of what the day would come.

Backboards are never comfortable, especially when trying to find out if your friends are alive. There were so many people that had been around her, so many sounds. No one could ever keep up with so many things happening at once. She tried to see out the back door before they put her in. She almost threw up. And she had a strong stomach.

She had the gut feeling they were all dead.

Checking the clock, she found it was five thirty. Only three and a half hours until he was gone. Why did it all have to come true?

She had never seen her mother so scared than when she woke up ten hours, ten months later.

Nothing is more scary than finding out someone close to you has died. It steals a part of the soul, and as time goes by, the hole only gets larger. Bit by bit you grow cold. Until all that is left is the truth, with no illumination in the darkness. And you run blindly, trying to find a cure for your empty heart. They say time will mend an aching soul. It's the opposite. Time further stabs the dagger into a destroyed life.

And then, all you want to do is die.

Its an ongoing circle, death is. Most are caused by another death. No one tells you that, but as time goes on for the lucky, you come to learn, you are going to die.

To her beliefs, everyone has a set goal, life expectancy, and everything else when you were born. Sure, you could run from a death, but in the end, that day would be your dying day.

His death was an accident indeed, to everyone down here. And sadly, above, He watched with despair the things He already knew.

Her clothes were already laid out, for she had planned this outfit two nights ago. It had been blacker than black that night, the first night. She had seen each one of her friends dead to the world. It was a sad thing to see, your loved ones in a world of their own. It wasn't fair, for that world they were in must be better than this. She begged sometimes to be put into that world, to be oblivious to all the sadness around you.

Large blue eyes welled with tears as a reflection showed something not expected. She hadn't seen a mirror, she refused to. And here she was, staring back at the sickly white ghost.

An elegance held long ago had disappeared into the setting sun. Golden locks of hair had turned straggly. Bones began to protrude. Her soul had left and she was hollow, the bones mocking its disappearance.

And in the deep blue, dough eyes, nothing was held any longer. They were empty, vacated, emotionless. The memory of a sunkissed glimmer danced in her head as pupils grew to an infinite shadow.

In her consciousness, she knew nothing would ever return to the way it was. Creeping along, she tried to fall into her skin. Nothing was right anymore. Their world was completely off center.

In the night, she heard whispered prayers for them to heal. But you couldn't. You couldn't pick up the pieces after you walked out of a hospital where two people close to you laid on their death beds and one had already laid there and moved on.

She prepared herself for the day and tried to find the words she'd speak to him. Hopefully, he would hear from up there, and try to smile down on the unhappy life they now led.

The night shuddered, an apology for the loss, and the pupils of dough eyes grew to those of gravestones.

**Well? What did you think? It's a bit longer than the first part, and they getting longer and longer. Please review!**


	3. Tuesday Mourning

**So, I decided that I would make the final part into smaller bits to spread it out. This part took forever to write, even though it's the only thing I'm currently writing in. I already have like two chapters written for the Rest is Silence and at least like eight for Scarred Youth. I will type, don't worry! Tell me what you think of this chapter!**

Chapter Three: Tuesday Mourning

Denial comes natural to the human body, when an event that steals the soul, and leaves you empty occurs. It is a defense mechanism, used for the weakened to deal with truth.

For her, it was her only choice.

A silent and mocking house began to cave in on her and she held her breath, waiting for the tide to go past.

But the tide didn't end, and it kept her under, casually letting her drown from the inside. Her house was filling up with salt water, and at every second, a stinging sensation came and burned her open wounds. Her majestic blue eyes filled with salt water and she wished it would end.

Her whole world ended that day, four days ago, four years ago. She wanted to move on, but she couldn't leave anything behind. Her son was dead, and her other laid on a bed near it.

Gliding into the room, she saw her husband, her support come in and greet her on the bed. He kissed her, but she didn't feel anything. She hadn't felt anything for four years, four days.

Life had been good before this. She was happy, her family was happy. Nothing had rocked their existence, and they lived for once in a world with no real drama. Then it all floated away.

It had been a normal night, her and her support were watching late television. No, it wasn't late night t.v. She hadn't watched late night t.v. in so long. She had slept. She had been happy.

Phone calls from the hospital were never good. They brought an inevitable depression. It rang, late at night, just as they headed to bed. She picked it up, her voice filled with an annoyed, tired, yet friendly tone.

And then she heard the dreaded "I'm sorry to say, but your sons have been in an accident." The phone dropped to the floor, and she began to shake. The salty tears poured from the fearful widened eyes. The phone was in pieces as she uttered infamous lines of worry.

The drive to the hospital was a silent one, and she never stopped shaking. Support offered reassurance, that the boys were all right, but she never believed it. Something had been wrong.

Traffic was being led around a wreckage was being cleared. But you could see all of it. A black Range Rover completely totaled, and she lost control of her stomach. At a stop light, she threw up.

Every once in a while, she would have a nightmare that'd she lose everything. That she'd be left alone in a world with no one she knew. Everything would fall away slowly, until all she had left was herself.

It was coming true.

The sun was rising, it was mourning. Three hours left, like three months, until her son would be buried. Put into the ground. Six feet under. Pushing the daisies.

There was no doubt that she had not nearly had enough time with the boy. No one ever had enough time with a person that's dead. It was a natural fact.

She slowly lifted herself up, but when she stood up, her legs gave out. Falling to the ground, fresh tears escaped her body. She tried to breathe, but it hurt so much. She gasped for air, yet none of it came into lungs. Her husband held her close. She fell apart in his arms for the millionth time.

She didn't want to say goodbye, no one did. It was such a simple thing, yet the most difficult thing in the world. How could you say goodbye to a son? A friend? A boyfriend? A brother?

The last time she had been to a hospital was when her father almost died. That had been scary, but it was nothing like this.

Parents were supposed to outlive their children. It was inhumane to see someone so much younger be rid of life so easily.

The hospital hadn't been busy that night. There was only one emergency in the town that day.

You never know how much you love someone until you're forced to claim their dead body.

His face had been at peace, and he was so badly hurt. Hurt enough to die. It had been instant, no chance of survival. He didn't feel any pain, unlike everyone else. He got to watch as his family died inside.

Sedation is a last resort, one doctors most do for the safety of everyone. She screamed and was held back, until an easing numbness overtook her.

She envied doctors. They weren't nearly as affected by death as a normal person was. But then again, she felt bad for them. They had to watch countless people and their own soul die.

Too many souls died that night.

Being sedated, she dreamt of a perfect world. She dreamt of their life that morning.

All the teens had been over, three happy couples. Nothing could be better. The kitchen would be empty the next day.

She was assisted up, and helped get to the bathroom. The pain was unbearable. Every step killed her more. When you lose a son, a part of you dies. Almost both her sons were dead, and she couldn't take it.

When she had seen her other son, barely breathing, she had collapsed in her chair. His hair was a mess, she didn't speak a word. She couldn't lose him. He was the only thing keeping her on earth.

He was still lying there.

As her husband put the water on hot, she stood there, shaking violently. He tried to keep her sane, but she couldn't take it. Today was her son's funeral. He'd be lowered into the ground. People would say they're sorry, when really they didn't know him.

Never had there been so many phone calls directed to their house. People she didn't even know called them, all because of his death.

He sat next to her, watching, worrying, being. She knew she was unstable, but she didn't want to hurt him. If she went away, she'd leave him with nothing, and he'd follow, and their other son would lie on a bed, oblivious to all.

After all, death was an ongoing circle.

Late at night, she would cry her hopelessness to no one. Tears would rock her to sleep and sometimes she hoped she'd never wake up.

She didn't leave her son's side for two days, two years. She'd scream at him to wake up, to make this all a dream. But he never did, and they had to keep going in this nightmare, where they all were slowly dying.

He wrapped a towel around her, trying to warm her up, but she'd never be warm. She was as cold as ice, in a freezing lake, letting an imminent chill run through her blood.

He could feel the pain she felt. At points in their marriage, he felt she no longer loved him. They both betrayed each other, hoping to satisfy the needs they had. But really, they just needed each other again. They became stronger than ever, and now, it was the ultimate test.

He helped prepare the black clothes she'd wear to her son's funeral. It would be the hardest thing, saying goodbye.

The word "goodbye" tricks you. To say "goodbye" is a depressing thing. You're leaving someone. It's a "sad-bye" not a "good-bye." Once you say goodbye, all you want to do is follow the person. It's not fair that you live and they don't, but it's the way of life.

She changed into the funeral clothes, and began to apply makeup, her face. She'd cover up the sunken in cheeks, the bags under her eyes, the thin lips quivering. The blue eyes were bloodshot, and it was a sea of emotion.

Remembering what the two girls looked like in the hospital, she knew that her family wasn't the only family destroyed. They all had to pick up the pieces of a life shredded into little bits of pain.

Her lips pierced together, as she held back a river of tears. They couldn't be held back, there were too many, it was too strong a force that these barren ocean eyes could hold. They fell down and took away her facade.

Her husband appeared next to her and wiped the tears from her face. She tried to gain a happy face, but all it turned into was more tears.

Drunk driving had destroyed them twice, and they had just gotten back from hell. Now, they were back in hell. Again. It wasn't fair that they had to go through it again. Their family couldn't have peace for very long.

She was assisted numbly out of their room and to the vast, empty main room. She had seen her sons in this room so many times, and it had never mattered. Until now.

All she wanted was for them to cross the room and head into the pool house and play games on the television. She wanted to walk in there, and not see a dark room, where she was constantly reminded of the emptiness that now lingered in her heart.

They walked to the kitchen and she barely fell into a seat. He took out two glasses, and filled them with water. The glass was set in front of her, and ripples began to form. Salty tears mixed with purified water, and made waves, that if her husband was small enough, he could ride. He stopped long ago, no one could pinpoint when. It just happened. The vicious turmoil of almost drowning was nothing compared to this.

She knew today was an end of an era. A new one would begin, one no one wanted. They had to let go.

She had never been good at letting go. She couldn't do it, especially to someone she loved, someone she'd give anything for. She'd give up anything for her family.

The house began to fill up with water again, and she fell into him for support. She knew she'd be long gone without him. She could deal with this kind of emotional overload. She wanted to take a hundred sleeping pills and die.

Nothing hurts more than walking out of a hospital after you had claimed a son's dead body and watch the other slowly creep their way from death. Nothing about it was fair, but they had to go through with it.

And in two hours, now two seconds, they'd let go of a loved one, whose life was cut short because of an accident. None of them deserved to go through this, but that was they was the cards were dealt.

The house was quiet, a moment of silence for what its' inhabitants were going through. She wanted to scream at her pain, make it go away, but her voice had lost itself. She couldn't say a word as all the suffering around them seeped into her veins. She couldn't say a word as the car engine turned over and they headed to their son's final resting place.

**Yeah, I had a person picked out for the death, but now, I don't know. It might have changed. I love seeing who you think is gonna die.**

**Tell me what ya think!**


	4. One Last Kiss

**New chap of Mockingbirds! Yay! So, I finally figured out who dies, but you have to wait and see... Please review!**

Chapter Four: One Last Kiss

Kirsten Cohen wore large glasses to cover up the enormous bags under her eyes. Concealer did nothing, except maybe make them more noticeable.

The day was January 17th, and it was bitter outside. Wind whipped around memories of a loved one. The sky was as white as a blank sheet of paper, reminiscent of a sorrowful second chance they did not want.

She stood in line, next to her husband, whom for the most part she was leaning on. Kirsten Cohen couldn't understand how her husband showed no emotion at all, no inclination of a wavering sadness in his heart.

Anyone and everyone who knew their son came to his funeral. A lot of people she didn't know. Most likely they came for free food at the end.

The church was large, she couldn't remember even setting the funeral up. Her husband obviously did it, because she wouldn't leave her other son's side for two days. He was comatose, and though she begged for him to wake up, a part of her wanted him to stay asleep and safe. That was the only way he could be safe. Once he woke up, he'd have to see the deterioration of the people around him and the destruction one day held.

Summer Roberts stood a few feet away from his parents, her lover's parents. You couldn't imagine the immensity of what he and his brother did to them.

She felt awkward, out of place, undeserving. No one felt okay with being here, no one had lost that many people in their lives.

The church ceiling was high, so that if you ever reached the top, you could touch the clouds.

Everything was reminiscent of four days ago, four years ago. It had been her second car trip since that night.

She continued to stare up at the ceiling, but something changed. It looked the same, yet it didn't. She was just staring at the ceiling.

It was like a hard embrace. She felt herself gasping silently and slowly for air, but none came. She felt herself detach from her body. And still, she stared at the ceiling.

Her body was going limp, but she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't breathe, or do anything. All of it was happening in a split second.

And just like that, the embrace let go, and she fell into herself as she let go to the ground.

Strong arms barely caught her, and she heard a scream, but none of it mattered. She was still falling away.

She had hoped to see her lover, but the colored hair wasn't right. At first, she thought it was his brother, but those thoughts were quickly dashed.

Luke Ward and Marissa Cooper were standing over her.

Then a glorious thought came to her: All of it was a dream. She was back to being a freshman, living in a fake world with no sadness. The three millenniums didn't exist. They never happened. She was never swept off her feet, she was still the snobby, lifeless, depressed girl she used to be. She was never saved. He never existed.

The funeral line ended as all watched Summer Roberts float back into a happier time, where she never left her bubble.

Sanford Cohen came to check on her and all came crashing back to the sense of unreality that had settled into their lives.

The last three years _did_ exist, and she had been swept off her feet, and she was saved, and he did exist.

All of it happened.

Summer Roberts sat up and let tears cascade down her pale and broken face. She was at a funeral. She was letting go of someone close.

Her head fell on Marissa Cooper's shoulder and both let out their pain. They were sitting in a pew near the back, and when the ceremony would begin, they'd be asked to sit in the front pew. Everyone stared, they had read it all in the newspapers.

Their town was notorious for gossip and everyone knew a detailed description of the accident that occurred on Friday, January thirteenth. Everyone knew who was dead and in critical condition. Everyone in their town had given the living victims and the families their deepest, fakest, condolences.

Marissa Cooper, Kirsten Cohen, and Summer Roberts were the three people to watch. You knew they'd fall apart, and no one wanted to miss any of it. Their town was the kind of town that got amusement out of anything.

Summer Roberts' near fainting experience was just a foreshadowing of the crackups half the people came to see. You wanted to see people worse off than yourself, it made you feel better about your condition.

All the people who had left Newport came back for the funeral: Luke Ward, Zachary Stephens, Anna Stern, Alex Kelly, Lindsay Gardner. They all came to say goodbye.

Marissa Cooper tried to be the stronger of the two, but in a situation like this, no one was strong.

She and her best friend were directed to the front pew, where she sat next to Kirsten Cohen. This was never supposed to happen. No one was supposed to die.

The church was filled with fake people, no one knew him. No one knew the real hurt inside him. No one ever would.

Sirens echoed in her head, the sirens that tried to rescue them all, but it didn't work. One of them slipped away from their hands and into God's clutches.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here to say goodbye..." Marissa Cooper's throat began to close up, but she didn't move a muscle. No one did, they all remained glued to their seat. No one coughed, but a lot of people cried. They cried for the injustice of the loss, for the sheer magnitude of the death. The tears ran down faces silently. They tried to hide all the salt water, but everyone knew. It was no use hiding it. For the people that really knew him, this really hurt them.

Her attention began to drift away, a defense mechanism. If you didn't pay attention, it wasn't real. If it wasn't real, everything was okay.

Summer Roberts heard her name, and all the teary eyes were on her. Slowly she stood up. Marissa Cooper refused to speak. Everyone had.

Though as her best friend went up, Marissa Cooper knew she'd have to speak. It wasn't fair if she didn't.

Summer Roberts stood up at the podium, staring into the eyes that held hopelessness. A whisper croaked in her mouth, but her lips were sown shut. A thin invisible line was between her cherry cracked lips. The ice chapped her lips and she constantly licked over them to keep them moist.

Her lips began to tremble, and they gradually parted. This was the worst nightmare of them all. No one could imagine the fear that was overtaking her.

And in hopes to get away from them, she turned.

In deep mahogany, a boy, a man, laid in a box with white satin around him.

The tears pounded down her small and broken face. This was too much. She walked over to the coffin, against her own better judgment. Her frail fingers touched his face, went down his cheek, to his lips.

She kissed him one last time.

Turning around, Summer Roberts faced everyone, trying to describe how she felt, but there were no words to describe him except, "I loved him."

Her voice was very soft, and broken up at the same time. She looked into their eyes and ran out of the church. She ran down the aisle, passing the empty souls. She ran into the bitter frost that whipped her hair into a dream. She wanted to run into the dream where he was alive.

Sprinting across the ground in petite heels, she tripped on the morning dew, and fell into a field of dead flowers. They were all dead. Her friends, him, the flowers, their souls. The only who didn't feel pain was him.

**What did you think? I hope you liked it, and now after typing it, I kinda gave out who died! Oh well, now you know. Or maybe you don't...**

**Anyways, please review, I love them!**


	5. Think Positive

**Short update, because that's just how short the chap is supposed to be. I was amazed by the way that the O.C. did their finale episode, it was amazing. Can't stop listening to "Hide and Seek"** **by Imogen Heap. So, here's the chap, hope you like!**

Kirsten Cohen sat in the front, the only person who's eyes stayed to the front. Everyone else's eyes followed Summer Roberts, who finally said it. Somehow through all the happiness and drama, she never said it to him. He said it every so often. It had been implied.

As Summer Roberts ran, Kirsten Cohen felt walls cave in on her. She wanted to sink low into the seat and disappear. She couldn't be at her son's funeral. That wasn't humanly possible. How could it be that she had outlived her son? How?

Her husband's hand slipped into hers, and she squeezed weakly. Her muscles were dead, and her fragile body shook with convulsions.

Marissa Cooper hung her head, letting droplets fall. She knew her best friend had been happy, but she wasn't the person to fall in love. She was the one to think she was in love, but realize it too late.

The church was inawkwardly silent. They all felt pity for the front pew, the ones who really lost something. The ones who had a lifetime to live without him.

"Would anyone else like to say a few words?" the priest stood up in front of the shattered lives. One person destroyed too many people.

No one spoke, and they would glance at others, but no one made a move to stand up. A lot were worrying about the girl who said her feelings and ran off. She sat under a bare tree, with brittle branches. They wrapped around her, trying to keep her safe, but they broke apart at the touch, and left her alone in front of rows of dead flowers, dead soldiers. She was alone in the world with her eyes open to see all the destruction he caused.

It was his fault, he did all of this. They were ruined, petrified, terrified. They had to go through the rest of their lives without him. They would have to go back to the places they feared the most, and step in, and let all the growing, living eyes follow the hollow figures float past them, like ghosts. They'd eventually have to put on a facade, and pretend they had moved on.

He wasn't chosen to die, it was just fate. Fate brought them together, fate took them apart. She had been told once you can't fight fate.

Marissa Cooper finally stood up and tried to swallow. The lump in her throat stuck there, and she tried to catch her breath. Her moist eyes began to water again as she stepped up to the podium in her flat, mournful shoes.

As she walked up, she now felt the hear her best friend had. It was scary to look face to face with your dead friend. It was scary to look at all the unhappy faces. It made you want to throw up.

She stood in front of him for a few moments, trying to figure out what was happening. She was staring at a dead person. You couldn't see any of the accident, he looked like he was just sleeping. If only it was just that.

"Um, my name is Marissa Cooper," the church was completely silent and her voice echoed off the church walls. "I knew Seth Cohen well, and he was really great. Um, I loved him as well, and he's really gonna be missed. I know Summer wanted to say a bit more, but uh, it's just relaly hard. It's really hard to say goodbye to our best friend."

Marissa Cooper let tears fall and she stepped away from the podium. She passed by the front pew, and the rest until she was out of the church and headed to the tree, where her best friend leaned on a dead and bare tree.

"Do you think he'll wake up?" Summer Roberts asked absentmindedly.

"I don't know, but I hope soon," came the answer. That was always the answer. It never changed, it would always be the same. The only person who knew when he'd wake up was him. He could choose how long he'd make them suffer.

"I don't think he will. He was so close to dying," the two girls had too many doubts. They couldn't handle anymore of the intensity of the blow.

"He has to eventually," Marissa Cooper answered to her best friend, who felt disconnected with the world. She felt hopeless, helpless.

The accident would follow the teens for the rest of their lives. They would never be able to get away from it. The school, the road, cars, the church, the movie, the diner. They were all faithful reminders of the night that ruined them.

"I don't think so," Summer Roberts voiced her doubts. Everyone had doubts about when he would wake up. The crash had been severe. No one understood how the two girls were at the funeral. The two brothers took the most of the blow, barely saving their girlfriends' lives.

They were tragic heroes, in the girls' minds. They saved Summer Roberts and Marissa Cooper. And all four of them would be remembered as being in the town's worst ever car accident.

"Stop thinking like that. We have to think positive," Marissa Cooper tired her luck at positivity, but it was lost in the cold winter air. Frost was on the ground and chills ran through their bodies.

**I told you it was a short update. There will be longer ones after this. Please review this, and _Scarred Youth!_ I finally updated it!**


	6. Funeral Procession

**Okay, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews. I will get to updating Scarred Youth faster and I need to update The Rest Is Silence. But right now, I'm updating this. So, I suppose I need to give some background to this now that the season is over. None of this is a dream, and if you're still confused, just put it in a review. I can answer all questions you have. Let's see, Caleb _is_ dead, Trey was never shot, Ryan, haven't decided if he found out or not. But there's what you'll need to know, I suppose...**

Chapter Six: Funeral Procession

"He's dead," Summer Roberts said flatly as the church doors opened. Six men, Sanford Cohen and his brother, Zachary Stephens, Luke Ward, Trey Atwood, and James Cooper held up his grave. Everyone that had known him came. Though Trey Atwood didn't deserve to be there.

The two girls stood up quickly, and stared at the image straight out of a movie. They had been to a funeral seven months ago, there for a man they knew nothing about. He died relatively alone, and hurt a few people. But really, four teens, except for one, weren't emotionally affected.

Kirsten Cohen stood behind the deep mahogany casket, as she walked with her full sister, Hailey Nichol.

Sanford Cohen felt tears begin to fall. He was holding his dead son's casket. His son was lying inside. He'd never see him again. There would never be the same kind of emotion in their house. He would die for his son. He never got a chance to try to. His son died instantly, and no one would know his last thoughts.

Had he been scared? Had he known? What kind of thoughts go through your mind as you die? Did it hurt? Was he sorry? Was he happy? Sad? Angry? They would never know.

James Cooper looked over at his only real friend. Never would he be able to go through with this. He could never bury his daughter.

That's when he looked farther than Sanford Cohen and saw his daughter standing by a tree. She held a look of confusion of sadness, and even from this distance, you could tell she was dying inside. Today was the harder day of their lives.

Luke Ward began to grow sick in the stomach. He felt horrible. There were so many fights with this guy. How could he live with himself? Of course they became friends, but there had been ill feelings. If Luke Ward had changed his ways earlier, would he still be here?

"We should go meet them," Marissa Cooper's voice wavered, as if afraid of her own decisions. The two best friends slowly made their way into the line of people heading to cars. The coffin was put in the back of the hearse.

Marissa Cooper and Summer Roberts were to sit in the first car, a limo, with Kirsten and Sanford Cohen. At first they objected, but nevertheless, were shoved into the sleek black limo with flags on the hood.

Thus began the funeral procession.

It was the most uncomfortable silence ever known. They all tried to be strong, and they concealed the weakness well. All of them began to live a fake life starting in the car.

The procession was a small one. There were only a few cars in it. It hurt with each breath to be in this reality.

Marissa Cooper stared out the window blacked out to anyone on the outside. How she prayed to be on the other side and not know what was occurring. How she longed to live in a world of happiness and life.

The cemetery, Garden of Peace, came into view. She swallowed hard and shut her eyes. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. She would wake up right...now.

Opening her eyes, it was still real.

The black limo stopped, and her stomach leapt into her throat. They had to put him in the ground.

The door opened and Summer Roberts attempted to step out first. Her balance was gone and Trey Atwood caught her. She felt strange in this person's arms. It felt like she was caught in her friend's arm, the silent protector of their group. But it wasn't him. It was his brother. She looked to her best friend, who was even more uncomfortable with Summer Roberts in Trey Atwood's arms. It was just wrong.

If anyone should catch Summer Roberts, it was him. The one they were here for. She refused to utter or even think of his name, it hurt her too much. And she knew that thinking about any of them hurt her. She would have loved to be picked up by his brother, but he was in a coma. If she had fallen and her lover's gone, he would have caught her at any given time.

So now the girls relied on everyone else.

Summer Roberts picked herself up and placed herself next to Zachary Stephens. There was nothing there, even as she looked up into his eyes for strength.

Marissa Cooper got out of the limo and finally, Sanford and Kirsten Cohen. They held hands, tightly squeezed, hoping the other would have some way to deal with all this. Neither had anything but each other.

The six men lifted his casket once again, and Kirsten Cohen fell for support to the four people she knew. Hailey Nichol, Summer Roberts, Marissa and Julie Cooper.

No one spoke a word as they walked to his final resting place.

Kirsten Cohen was hitting her breaking point. Only a few more minutes with her son above ground.

Summer Roberts didn't know what to do. She wanted to run as far as she could and pretend it was all fake, but they all were going through this. She would be abandoning them.

The casket was six feet above the resting spot. Summer Roberts stepped up to it.

"I love you, and I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I miss you too much and this is too hard. I love you," and her hand laid on the casket.

Then she ran.

Everyone had expected it, and no one stopped it. She ran away with all her might, letting the winter breeze hit her head-on. She wouldn't stop running until she was far enough away.

Summer Roberts never was very good at dealing with things. Especially death. Especially the death of someone she loved. Someone she'd love forever.

Her small legs began to burn but she didn't stop. She didn't want to run away. She _had_ to. She wasn't allowed to watch him be put in the ground. Then it would all be real and he'd be gone. She couldn't let that happen.

Marissa Cooper didn't run after her best friend. She knew she'd run. Her attention was back on what was happening. Words were being spoken, tears were being shed, and then he'd be lowered.

Kirsten Cohen felt it coming. She was breaking.

The casket began to lower and she let out a scream.

"Stop! Don't do it! Not my baby! Please stop! No, you can't do this!" and she began to be held back by her husband. "Not my baby! Why did they take my baby? Please, no! I want my baby! This isn't fair! Stop, please! Not my son! Oh God, not my son! Why did you take him? Why? Why did you take my baby away?"

By now, most of the attendees' eyes were in tears as he was lowered into the ground.

"Kirsten, stop!" Sanford Cohen was holding his wife back, and sobbing as well. No, it wasn't fair at all.

"But our baby! Why did He take out baby? It's not fair, he should be alive! Don't bury him! Please don't bury him! I want my baby! Why did He take him?"

Sanford Cohen was on the ground, holding and rocking his wife as they watched their son's casket be lowered into the ground.

No one had a dry eye. Marissa Cooper was sobbing alone, on the opposite side of everyone, staring at the ruined couple. This was so difficult.

Summer Roberts was running past every memory. He was gone. The words screamed in her head. She couldn't get away from them.

High above his coffin, a mockingbird played a funeral tune as the sky gave out and it rained clouds. People slowly began to disappear as dirt was placed on the coffin.

Nothing mattered anymore as three people stood around the boy's coffin. He was really gone. He was being buried. Kirsten and Sanford Cohen sobbed over the loss of their son, and Marissa Cooper cried over a close friend.

If only they could go back four days, four years. It hadn't even been a week, and yet it felt like forever. They'd never hear him speak, see him smile or laugh.

The dirt was covering the casket, with snowflakes mixing in. It had never snowed before in this town. It was him, trying to tell them it would be okay without him. But they didn't hear him.

It would never be okay without him.

**And there we have it. What did you think? I have a lot more going for this. Originally, it was going to be four parts, but it seems to be a hit, so it's longer. Please review, because I love them!**


	7. Pleading With Ghosts

**So, I finished writing this, and it turns out to be eleven chapters. I was going to go farther, but it seemed right to end it where I did. So, read on, only a few chaps left.**

Summer Roberts didn't know where she was going, but it was hopefully somewhere safe.

And then it hit her. It wasn't hard, but soft. Someone was holding her under a tree where he gave her his heart. Someone was whispering in her ear just like he did.

"_I love you," he whispered in Summer Roberts' ear. It was July 13th, and they were walking. It was raining, and shelter was the tree._

"_I know that," Summer Roberts giggled and they had a passionate kiss. They had exactly six months left of happiness._

_An accident would occur in six months, not that far from where they were._

"_You know that I'd do anything for you?" she never understood why he said all those things that night. He just had a feeling._

"_Yeah..." Summer Roberts looked into his eyes and felt safe._

"_I would die for you, Summer," and they kissed again before running out into the rain._

Summer Roberts shut her eyes and left more tears cascade down her sullen face.

"I love you."

Her eyes opened and scanned around. She heard something. The embrace she had felt came back to her, and she knew. He was there.

Closing her eyes, she could see him. She wanted to stay in this dream forever. In the dream, he was alive and she was safe and life was good.

"I love you too," she said to him, and the embrace slowly let go. "Please don't go," she pleaded with the ghost, but it didn't work.

'I'm sorry."

Soft lips touched hers and then he was gone.

Flurries of clouds were covering the asphalt, and she stared up into the blank white sky.

Four years ago he died, and now he was saying goodbye.

Sanford Cohen lifted his sobbing wife up, who continued to mutter "my baby." They would head now to the hospital to see their other son, who wasn't dead, but near it.

Kirsten Cohen felt emotionally drained. Her son was now in the ground, and it was supposedly the "time to heal."

A funeral party was being held at their house, but neither felt like going. Marisa Cooper left his grave in tears and got in the limo. The Cohens would have had the limo come back, but they couldn't. It was a silent ride back to the church.

Marissa Cooper found Summer Roberts' car. She luckily had the keys. She would have to drive around to find her best friend. But she didn't mind. It prolonged the time they would have to go to the party.

Summer Roberts had fallen down, letting the snow grace her pale face. She had never felt more alone in her life. No one could understand the pain she constantly felt. Her life was one endless darkness that she'd never find the light.

He had been the light.

A car's headlights shone on the tree and she stared at it. Irony. She needed a light, a happiness, and lights came. Just not the right kind.

"Thank God," Marissa Cooper got out and ran to her friend.

"I'd rather not," Summer Roberts was hugged by her best friend.

"Sum, come on. We have to go," they pretended to be okay, but both were ready to fall apart. The loss of their best friend left them so empty.

"I don't want to," Summer Roberts objected to her best friend, but was coerced to go.

She began to think about him, and how she regretted never taking him right back when he messed up.

The ride went quickly and soon, the car was in front of the Cohens' house. Summer Roberts did not want to be here. This was her worst nightmare. She was trying to avoid this house with all she could.

And up in his window, there was nothing. But for a second, she thought she saw him like she always would. He waved to her, but she told herself it was a mind trick. Or rather, as he would say, a "Jedi Mind Trick."

Suddenly, she began to shake with fear. All that she could see was the accident, and him. In the casket. Dead. Alone. He had left her dead inside and alone.

A long time ago, when she was way too young, before her parents divorced, she dreamed of her true love. He was right out of the magazines, and he'd sweep her off her feet, and they'd live happily ever after.

Never would she think he would be the one. Yet he was perfect. He had loved her so much, and she never saw him. But he was the one.

Soon, she was being directed by Luke Ward and Zachary Stephens to the house. She fought it, because it'd be real. How could you go into his house when he just died? He was gone. He'd never come back.

Summer Roberts was practically a rag doll. She was so weak, and they were lifting her into the house.

Marissa Cooper was breaking down at the wheel of the car. She hated this situation so much. Snow was growing thick on the roads. They'd be trapped here. Trapped in a dead boy's home.

It was so strange to think of him as dead. He just wasn't that person. You expected to see him the next day.

Her doe eyes had mascara smeared around them. Bags grew bigger. Pupils grew smaller by the light. How could light shine through such a dark day? He was dead. Why did it seem so temporary? She couldn't get it in her head that he was dead. Or she had it in her head too much.

Everyone stared as Summer Roberts was led to the couch and laid down. You couldn't look at her without crying. She shook violently. He had laid there. He had been here. She wanted him so bad.

The house held memories of a wanted world. They lived in an unimaginable darkness.

The weather grew warm, and melted the clouds into a flood. It was trying to wash away the memories of him and let them move on. But she didn't want to move on, she wanted to move back.

Marissa Cooper tried to regain her composure, but everything was so overwhelming. How could he gone? How could he be dead? Just last week at this time he was making stupid sarcastic comments about her and her mother. So how could he be gone?

Her head rested on the steering wheel. It was time to go in. But she couldn't. There was a force holding her back. She'd go in that house and see all the memories of him and his brother. She had tried to suppress all these feelings, but nothing would be the same. Her friend was dead.

"Are you gonna be okay? Marissa Cooper lifted her skeletal head. Luke Ward was standing by her window, in the pouring rain.

"Can you just leave me alone?" she asked of her old boyfriend.

"No, Marissa, come on," he opened the door and reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt. She didn't object yet, she was too weak.

"Stop it, I'm fine," she began to try and get away from him. But she couldn't, for he had lifted her up. "Luke, stop. I mean it," but he kept going. "Luke, please."

"You have to get inside," he held onto her as she fought him.

"Luke!" Marissa Cooper pushed herself out of his arms and fell to the ground. The fall stung, but she didn't notice it. She was sobbing by now.

"What are you doing?" Luke Ward was awestruck.

"I don't want to go in there. I can't," she held herself, her hands cupping her elbows.

"Why not?" Luke Ward tried to be calm, but he was losing patience.

"Because he's gone! There are too many memories! I can't go in there. Not yet," she yelled at him, with tears pouring on them all. The sky cried for their pain.

"Maris, it's gonna be okay. You'll get through this," he felt sick looking at her. She had changed so much since he left. He pitied her.

"No, I won't!" Marissa Cooper tried to run off, but he stopped her. She pushed him off her and headed to the backyard. She wanted memories of her lover.

Her hands shook as they gripped the handle and turned it. The doors swung open and it showed a dark and lonely pool house.

He was gone, lying in a cold, sad, and blank hospital room with his parents watching over him, waiting for him to wake up. Kirsten Cohen was holding his hand as her husband talked to him. There was no movement, no nothing. He could hear them, but no one knew that. He didn't even either. It went into him, but it didn't register. He was dead to the world.

**There ends this chap. I updated this and Scarred Youth at the same time, so go read that if you didn't already!**


	8. Brothers

**A new update...I promise Scarred Youth will be updated soon, I just have to get through finals. The last chap WAS a flashback, can't say that enough.** **Anyways, here's the update, hope you like.** **Again, for reference, Trey was never shot...it never happened...**

_

* * *

Oh brother, I can't, I can't get through_

_I've been trying hard to reach you_

'_Cause I don't know what to do_

_Oh brother I can't believe it's true_

_I'm so scared about the future_

_And I wanna talk to you_

_Oh, I wanna talk to you. . ._

"Talk" by Coldplay

* * *

"Please wake up," she pleaded with the boy. He didn't deserve any of this. His life was story-telling worthy. He had battled everything and it had been time to relax. But that didn't happen. It would never happen.

Sanford Cohen lifted his head to footsteps. There stood Trey Atwood, inawkwardly at the doorway. Kirsten and Sanford Cohen slowly exited the room. It hurt so much to leave their now only son.

Trey Atwood suddenly felt uncomfortable around his little brother. The person lying in the bed was not the same person Trey Atwood knew. His brother was never this close to death. After all these two were through, this was by far the worst.

He sat down, and looked at his brother. Thoughts ran back to years and years ago when they were kids. Back when their mother wasn't an alcoholic, and their father was still there. Those were times that they were a family. Dysfunctional, yes, but a family nonetheless.

"You gotta wake up Little Brother," Trey Atwood started, and waited for movement. Nothing. "Please, Ry, please. Nothing is right. You have to wake up. We need you so badly Ry. Please wake up soon."

He looked down sadly at his brother and there was no change. How long would it be until a movement?

"I talked to Mom. She's gonna come out and visit. I don't know when, but she will. Maybe you'll be awake by then. I hope so, because this place is falling apart without you."

_Trey Atwood, ten years old, pitched the old ratty baseball to his five year old brother. The younger one barely hit it, and Trey Atwood was getting annoyed._

"_Come on Ryan. Hit it like you mean it," he said and his little brother threw the ball back at him._

"_Why do I have to learn this?" the brother put the bat down in anger._

"_Because I'm your big brother and if I don't teach you this, who will? Dad? He's too busy, you gotta learn," Trey Atwood stated as he would state the beginning line to his brother ten years later._

"_I don't want to learn," his younger brother began to pick a fight and Trey Atwood hated fighting. He always won, and sometimes, he felt bad. Sometimes._

"_Too bad," he prepared his pitch but the other brother didn't move. "What?"_

"_I quit."_

"_You can't quit. Atwoods aren't quitters. Now, get ready," Trey Atwood watched his brother pick up the bat. They worked on it for a bit, and as they got farther into it, Trey Atwood grew angrier. His brother was quite possibly getting worse._

"_Can we be done?" the little boy begged._

"_Why? Are you tired? Nah, a few more, I'll them 'em faster, be ready," Trey Atwood threw the ball, which his brother clearly missed. "You're swinging all wrong. Here, like this."_

_Trey Atwood, at a young age of ten, was excellent at sports. He later fell out of them, when his family fell apart._

_Trey Atwood hit the ball far and ordered his little brother to go get it. His brother was silent and often overseen even at that young of an age. He just wasn't that strong. _

_This day wasn't an exception._

_All Trey Atwood remembered now of what happened after that was seeing from a distance, his mother picking up her little boy off the road._

_Dawn Atwood had been a good mother, and she cared for her boys. Her hands shook as she drove them to the hospital. Trey Atwood held his little brother in his arms. Blood seeped into his white shirt._

_Trey Atwood had never been allowed to stay off of school, but for two days, he had. For two days, he sat by his little brother's side. For two days, he waited until the five year old woke up. For two days, he watched his family fall apart in front of him._

_His little brother had been bruised and battered. The look of him summed up the two's childhood. It was abuse after abuse._

_Two days the small boy slept and let the world around him fall away until there was nothing left._

Trey Atwood couldn't help but see the resemblance his brother had to his own self at five years old. They both were battered, and both hadn't woken up.

It was twice as long this time, and there was twice the damage. So twice the destruction. It amazed Trey Atwood how his brother's new family was still functioning.

The stay here had to be expensive. He remembered that just a two day stay killed their family. Along with rent, and water, and other bills, they were in debt.

Trey Atwood remembered their father a lot better than his brother. Their father was a decent guy, and indeed, he did have flaws, but that didn't change the fact that he cared about his family.

No one ever had the heart to tell Trey Atwood's brother that he was the reason his father was in jail.

The bills had been pilling up, and the Atwoods needed money. They were desperate. So, their father went out one dark and dreary night with a bag. None of them questioned it. He hugged Trey Atwood and his brother, then their mother, and walked out. That was the last time they saw him not wearing an orange jumpsuit.

They would visit every so often, and usually Dawn Atwood was the only one who saw him. Trey Atwood maybe saw him three times, and his brother, once. The visits were less and less, and now, they were never.

Trey Atwood didn't say a word to his brother, they were silent. Who knew back then when they were little kids that it would turn out like this?

He slipped his hand into his brother's for one final plead.

"Please, Ry, wake up. We need you. Don't do this," Trey Atwood waited for something, but nothing came.

Hope was growing thin, even after four days. His brother was in a coma, no one like the sound of it.

A battered hand squeezed another, and Trey Atwood stared at his brother. Never faster did he run out of the room and get a doctor. The hope all grew back as he practically screamed.

A doctor came into the room, and looked over the comatose victim. He shook his head. No, I'm sorry. No, it isn't happening. No, sometimes this occurs. No, it means nothing. Yes, your brother is still in the coma.

Questions came from Trey Atwood's mouth like rapid fire. And all the answers disappointed him more.

"Please Ry, wake up soon," Trey Atwood said to his brother after the doctor had left. Then he left, unfortunately leaving his brother alone.

**Please review, we've only got three more chapters left!**


	9. Mementos

**Wow, this has been forever. The next two chapters are short, because they were going to be one whole one. I'm super sorry, I've been writing in Shaking Skeletons, so if you haven't read that, go read it.**

Marissa Cooper slowly eased herself into the room. Memories of him filled her head. She could see herself with him, falling asleep together on the bed. She could breathe him in here, his scents soothed her. A waterfall was breaking through her barrier. She was falling apart in the room. Her body shook, and cold penetrated through her veins. She walked to the bathroom, and pulled a towel off the rack.

She wrapped the towel around her body, and fell back into memories, of their first date. The most fun she'd had in a while. He protected her, and she felt safe around him. Now he was in a coma, and she was alone.

Being in the pool house, she felt like none of it ever happened. She would wait for him to appear and take her away. She wanted to be taken away.

People inside the main house stared at Summer Roberts. She didn't say a word, and all she did was let more tears fall.

This was his house. He had lived there. But not anymore. By now, he was six feet under the ground. In front of a gravestone that read, "Loved son and brother."

Every second was a lifetime in this house. How could she by lying there? How could she lie in a dead boy's house?

A large scar began to ache on top of a placid cover. A shaking bony finger touched the scar and a burning sensation filled her body. The pain was unbearable, but it'd never go away.

A body appeared next to her. Marissa Cooper had sat next to Summer Roberts.

"How do you feel?" the second girl asked.

"Like crap," Summer Roberts answered. "Where were you?"

"Pool house," she replied. Her clothes were still wet, even with the towel draped around her.

"How can you go in there?" the four of them had been in that room just hours before it happened. That time seemed so far away, like some alternate universe. Four days, four years ago, all four of them were playing video games, laughing, kissing, being happy.

"It's better than in here...or up there," Marissa Cooper commented, but didn't look at her best friend. The mood throughout the house was sonorous and somber. It was quiet, no one quite wanted to talk. Everyone wandered around silently.

"I was gonna go up there, but I don't know, it just seems wrong. I mean, he's dead. He wouldn't care, but it seems like he would," Summer Roberts felt people glaring at her. No one cared about this girl's feelings. She was just a bystander.

"We could," Marissa Cooper announced, and her friend looked over. "Go up there, if you want."

"I don't know, it seems weird," she objected. The two girls continued to sit in a mocking silence. They saw old friends stare wildly at them. They were caged animals, for the zoo to watch.

Anna Stern saw the two girls, and waited for the opportunity to go over. Summer Roberts and Marissa Cooper were diseases no one wanted to contract.

She made the first moves, but nothing after that. She was nervous about going over. She had known these people. Now, that was completely untrue.

So instead, she waved to Marissa Cooper, who gave a small, depressed smile.

"Do you wanna go somewhere?" Summer Roberts was feeling empty. This whole scenario was wrong. She was not to be at his funeral after party.

Funerals shouldn't have after parties. Who would want to celebrate after a part of your soul was buried?

"Like where?" Marissa Cooper replied. All she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep allowed you to have illusions of a life you prayed for.

In dreams, anything was possible. You could smile, and see the ones you couldn't see.

She had yet to visit the comatose son. It just seemed wrong. She was in love with him, yet she couldn't visit him lying in a bed near death.

**I told you it was small...anyways, please review. And maybe you did see the other thing Marissa and Summer were talking about, other than the room...maybe you didn't. Please review! Only two chapters left!**


	10. Going Back

**So, I thought I had posted this, but I hadn't, and I'm really sorry about that.**

Sanford Cohen took a quick glance over at his wife. Silently, she sobbed, wishing someone would take all her pain away. But only her son could take away all the pain he made her feel.

His hand slipped to the passenger seat and he tightly grasped her small, fragile hand. He could feel the engagement and wedding rings on her finger. Only once she had taken them off. She vowed never to again.

The two looked at each other at a stoplight, and in her eyes, he saw something indescribable. She wasn't the same person from twenty years ago when they said their vows. She wasn't the same person from seventeen years ago when they held their son in a hospital room. Nor was she the same person from twelve years ago when they watched him go to his first day of school in Berkeley. Or the same person ten years ago when they buried her mother. Or five years ago when he first defied them. Or two and a half years ago when they brought home their second son. Or a year and a half ago when they both left. Or half a year ago when her father was gone and she had to go away. Or four days ago when their world stopped. She wasn't the same person from an hour ago when their son was still above ground.

Sanford Cohen didn't know how they would keep going. Their son, who they had raised, was dead. He would never come back. They couldn't call him, or write to him. He'd never get them.

Every day they prayed he was still alive, that they could give anything for him to be back. Every day, they would prepare things to tel him. They would whisper to him in the night, scream for him when their world was too heavy to hold. Every day they wrote messages to him that were never sent.

The two took their time driving. He had been driving, and doing nothing wrong. But he was taken from them and he'd never come back.

"Where are we going?" Kirsten Cohen asked her husband. She was scared of the answer. She didn't want to go home, she didn't want to see their faces.

"I was thinking we'd head back, but if you don't want to..." Sanford Cohen answered after seeing her dismayed face.

"No, we can go, I just don't want to talk to anyone," she replied to him, her stomach growing weary.

Down the road, their son's face was on the ground, below a cross, surrounded by candles. Signs were put up. "You drink, you drive, you kill."

Kirsten Cohen felt even more sick as they drove past the site her son died at. He had spent his last moments of life there. It was disturbing to think about. The boy they raised from a little baby died right where they were.

She wanted her son back more than anyone could imagine.

She wanted to hold him one more time, see him one more time, talk to him one more time. What she would give to hear him one last time.

"You gonna be okay?" Sanford Cohen asked his wife as they neared their own house.

It was no longer a home. It was just a house. Ne heart to this home, or house. No happiness stayed there. No one could smile. With both their sons gone, there was no use to it.

"I just don't want to talk to anyone," she wanted to disappear. They were all here because of her son.

Sanford Cohen tried to hold back emotion. They couldn't both break down. Then who could they fall on? No, Sanford Cohen had to be strong, for the both of them. He had to catch his wife.

He got out of the car first, into the rain. His wife made no movement of leaving. There were so many cars, too many. She couldn't deal.

"Come on," he opened the door, unbuckled her, and grabbed an umbrella. He opened it, and led his wife out of the car. She said nothing, a resist of alcohol was becoming difficult. But then one simple, yet never-ending thought came to her: Alcohol had killed her son.

Her legs gave out, and he caught her. She was so glad she still had him. All her mistakes, and he still stayed beside her.

"Just a few more feet," he mumbled to both of them ro try and get them to the door. It barely worked.

The front door opened and James Cooper stood there, ready to help get Kirsten Cohen in. She barely walked in, better than Summer Roberts' entrance.

Once inside, James Cooper nudged Sanford Cohen and looked up. The umbrella was still up. Sanford Cohen shrugged.

They already had all the bad luck.

**Thank you so much for your great reviews, only one more chapter after this!**


	11. And the truth is, I miss you

**The final chapter, we've finally gotten here. I wasn't going to do a sequel, but as I wrote this, I figured it deserved one. But hey, tell me if you absolutely see the need for a sequel, or if you think a sequel might ruin the story. So, read, then review. You know the drill.**

All eyes were on the couple, and Kirsten Cohen felt herself wanting to die. She felt like no one could ever understand the way she felt. She had lost a son, and no one could replace him. Her own flesh and blood. How could he be gone at such a young age?

Summer Roberts locked eyes with Kirsten Cohen. Inside the ice blue eyes, she saw a fit of tears about to fall. And in the deep and broken brown eyes, a scarred memory with seared pain protruded into an unfading midnight.

Julie Cooper hugged her close friend, and led her to the bedroom. She had been there hours before, before all of this occurred.

"Summer," Sanford Cohen called out to the grief stricken girl. She stood with precaution and walked over to his father.

"Yeah?" her voice cracked, and waited for an answer.

"I know it might be hard, but could you possibly, go get, um, his plastic horse? I think Kirsten needs it," he was careful not to say his name. The only person close to him that said it still was Marissa Cooper.

"Sure," Summer Roberts said with hesitation and uncertainty. Sanford Cohen left her to go into his room.

She had never wanted so much to run. Four days ago he was alive, and they were talking and laughing. And she would have to go in that room where she spent so many days.

Marissa Cooper didn't follow Summer Roberts. Her friend had to do this alone.

They all watched as she stepped up the never-ending staircase. Her legs were those of jello. Her hands shook as she grasped the banister. Her eyes were downward so that she didn't see where she was going. Tears fell from her bowed head and didn't stain her porcelain face.

Anna Stern walked over to the now standing Marissa Cooper. At first neither said a word, they just stared at Summer Roberts.

"Maybe you should go after her," Anna Stern stated. She got the call from Sanford Cohen two days ago. She skipped school to pay her respects the a fallen friend she loved.

"I know I should, but I can't. Not yet," Marissa Cooper was afraid of what was up those stairs.

Summer Roberts had gotten halfway up the stairs, and she didn't know if she could make it all the way.

One foot followed the other, and with caution, she slowly made it up. She was so nervous about going into his room. It was like going back in time, but pieces were missing. He was missing.

Frail fingers touched a bronze knob. It was cold, like no warmth had come near this part of the house in too long.

"_Hey, what are you doing here?" Summer Roberts' boyfriend popped his head out of the bathroom to see her standing at the door with a bag in hand._

"_I was gonna surprise you," she complained and walked in, setting the bag on his bed._

"_What is that?" he exited the bathroom and went over to his girlfriend._

"_Well, since your mom is in rehab and your granddad just died, I figured Princess Sparkles is probably going to be staying longer than I thought. So I packed some things for her," Summer Roberts explained as he riffled through the bag._

"_A Barbie hairbrush?" he pulled out the brush and looked at her before laying it down on the bed that he was already sitting on._

"_Hey, just because she's a plastic horse doesn't mean she doesn't have beauty needs," she joked and pulled out another item._

"_A nightgown? Summer, I don't think Princess Sparkles is gonna fit in this," her boyfriend exclaimed._

"_Well, I also thought that since Captain Oats is going to have some company, you could use some too," she neared him. "How does that sound?"_

_Summer Roberts kissed her boyfriend passionately._

"_Yeah, that sounds nice," they continued to kiss, and then laid on his bed. "Thank you, for helping me through this."_

"_I'm always gonna be here for you," Summer Roberts told her boyfriend._

"_Well, I'll always be here for you. No matter what. I'm never gonna leave you. I love you," he stared up to her eyes, and she into his. His deep brown eyes were filled with fear, but also truth._

"_Same here," she whispered and kissed him again._

Summer Roberts sighed. She missed those times. She missed him not being a liar. Because he had lied. He wasn't here anymore, and she was alone.

Her hand turned the knob and light pressure was put to the door. It swung easily, and she felt herself falling back in time. So many times had she stood here. So many times had she opened the door and bounded in. And too many times had this room been empty.

An odd sensation came to her as she took that first step in. It was the first time she was in this room since it happened. Nothing looked changed, but everything had. The room was ownerless.

Everything was his. It reeked of him. She wanted to run so badly. It was all his. And he was gone.

Sooner or later, his parents would have to get rid of his things. It was part of moving on. But she doubted they would. He was their son, his memory had to be preserved.

But then, she began to think, at one point, they'd all have to move on. How could she? He was _the one._ How could she leave him behind?

Before she knew it, she was four steps in. It was so strange walking in a dead person's room. It was frozen in time, back to a time when all was well, and he was still alive.

The bed started to come into view like it always did. Usually he was lying on it, and she'd surprise him. That was where he went to disappear, but they all knew he was easy to find. But now, it was a little more difficult.

Captain Oats stood sad and lonely on the night stand beside his owner's bed. That horse helped him through so many things. Captain Oats got his owner through the years of loneliness, the moments of depression. The times when the world gave up on him. Captain Oats was always there. He was his owner's rock.

Summer Roberts let tears fall as she looked upon the lonely horse. Her lover had left so many things behind, so many words unsaid. No one knew how important he was until he was gone.

She didn't know why, but she fell onto his bed. Gracefully, she sat there, trying to find the courage she so desperately needed. But it was so difficult.

Her eyes lingered on Captain Oats for a while, until finally she noticed something hidden behind a frame. It was just lying behind a picture of them, and her hand went out to grab it.

A note. All in his handwriting. And it was to her.

_Summer,_

_I'm sorry. I never meant to leave like I did. It wasn't my choice, I swear. I wish I could be with you, and not let you suffer, but I can't. I can't come back. I know you probably hate me, but I didn't want any of this to happen. I am always going to be there for you, even if not in person. Please tell everyone that I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave any of you. Make sure my mom doesn't drink, and my dad doesn't fall apart. I'll find some way to tell them all goodbye. This is the hardest thing to do, but please. You have to know I'm sorry. I know this isn't right but I could leave you all like I did. I want to make sure you're safe. I can't stop feeling guilty, seeing how much I've destroyed you. It's unfair that all of this happened, and I don't know why it did. But you have to know this: I love you, and I will always love you. I wish I could have married you, and had kids with you, grown old with you, but I suppose that wasn't meant to happen. I know this is hard, but sooner or later, it will get easier. I promise. I will always be with you. Make sure everyone is alright, because I'll hate myself more if the others aren't. But I'll feel the worst if you aren't. I hate to do this, but goodbye. Tell everyone I miss them and that I love them. _

_But Summer, never forget that I love you. Because I do and I always will._

_Seth_

Tears poured down her broken face, and her hands shook. This was his goodbye. It couldn't be possible, but yet it was. He had done it.

"I love you too Seth," she cried out to no one. "I love you so much," she felt herself breaking apart, and she didn't know what to do. "I will always love you and nothing will ever change that."

A mockingbird sat outside the window, and began to hum a tune of their first dance. The time Seth Cohen swept Summer Roberts off her feet.

She smiled through glittering tears, the first smile in four days, four years. The memories of a better time filled her brain. So much had changed since then, yet none at all.

She understood she had to leave the room eventually. But something about the room made her feel okay. Time had stopped here, and he was alive. That's all she wanted.

She didn't flinch when someone knocked on the door, she didn't even move. The note was held tightly in her hand. Slowly she began to fold it up.

Marissa Cooper appeared in the doorway, not daring to do in. There were too many memories.

Summer Roberts attempted to get up, but slipped. She saw a notebook again hidden under the bed. She pulled it out, and took a pen. She wrote words and laid it on the bed.

She then pulled herself up, taking his plastic horse along with her. She slipped out of the room, one last time, and shut the door.

The letter she left would be gone by the next day. No one would know where it went, or even that it existed. Only twelve words were on the paper, ones she said lately, but he couldn't keep them. Now, he could.

"_I miss you, but I love you more than words can express."_

_**FIN**_

**Well, there's the end. Please read and review, I've got two other stories getting ready to be updated this week(Shaking Skeletons and A Cold Wind) so be prepared. I hope you enjoyed, and please review and tell me your thoughts.**


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